Today’s prompt: The little boy’s idea of heaven was . . .
The Martineau’s had a large family: five daughters and one son—Danny, the youngest. Each Sunday morning, the family woke early to get ready for church. After breakfast, the girls curled their hair, giggling at themselves in the mirror, and chose their best dresses.
Danny sat at the table, blowing bubbles through a straw in his chocolate milk.
“Get dressed, Danny,” his father called. “Hurry up.”
At church, he sat wedged between his parents, swinging his feet. Time crawled as the pastor described streets paved with gold. Danny frowned. The little boy’s idea of heaven was not going to church.
Let’s see what the others wrote: